ur wonderful harbor of Rio, Mr. Orme. Perhaps some day I shall be
permitted to show you its magnificences."

"Who knows?" said Orme. "It would be very pleasant."

"As to the bill," continued Alcatrante quickly, "do you care to give it
to me?"

Orme felt himself frowning. "I will keep it till the morning," he said.

"Oh, well, it is of no consequence." Alcatrante laughed shortly. "See,
here is your hotel. Your company has been a pleasure to me, Mr. Orme. You
arrived most opportunely in the park."

Orme jumped to the curb and, turning, shook the hand that was extended to
him. "Thank you for the lift, Senhor Alcatrante," he said. "I shall look
for you in the morning."

"In the morning--yes. And pray, my dear sir, do not wander in the streets
any more this evening. Our experience in the park has made me
apprehensive." The minister lifted his hat, and the cab rattled away.

The entrance to the Pere Marquette was a massive gateway, which opened
upon a wide tunnel, leading to an interior court. On the farther side of
the court were the doors of the hotel lobby. As a rule, carriages drove
through the tunnel into the court, but Orme had not waited for this
formality.

He started through the tunnel. There was no one in sight. He noted the
elaborate terra-cotta decorations of the walls, and marveled at the bad
taste which had lost sight of this opportunity for artistic simplicity.
But through the opening before him he could see the fountain playing in
the center of the court. The central figure of the group, a naiad,
beckoned with a hand from which the water fell in a shower. The effect
was not so unpleasing. If one wished to be rococo, why not be altogether
so? Like the South Americans? Was their elaborate ornamentation plastered
on to an inner steel construction? Orme wondered.

Midway of the tunnel, and at the right as one entered, was a door leading
into the porter's office. This door was shut, but as Orme approached it,
it noiselessly opened out. He expected to see a porter appear, and when
no person stepped over the sill, he inferred that the door had been blown
open by an interior draught.

Just as he was turning out to go around the the door--which shut off all
view of him from the inner court--a figure shot through the opening.

Before Orme could dodge, he was seized firmly by the shoulders and jerked
into the room, with a force that sent him staggering. He tripped over a
chair and went to the floor, but quick